My Mission
by Noelani618
Summary: The Soldier started to leave the man, his mission, on the river bank. But then he stopped and looked back. No, he couldn't leave. Another alternate ending to Cap 2. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Foremost, I want to thank my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ for His unending mercy and grace. I am very blessed and so thankfully to have some time to write at last. Huzzah! :D

 **Prompt** : At the end of CA:TWS, Bucky doesn't leave Steve after he drags him out of the river. When Sam, Natasha, and Fury find Steve on the shore, Bucky's in Guard Dog Mode, and it's all they can do just to convince him to let them touch Steve in order to take care of him. IDEK where you'd take it from there. I just need Bucky to stay and know who Steve is, even if he hardly knows who he himself is. _**-from Avengers Gen prompts on LJ**_

Sooo, this doesn't follow the prompt exactly but it was inspired by it so I wanted to put it here. :) Give credit where credit is due...sort of since I don't remember who gave the prompt...ahem. *hides*

And yes, I know this has been done many times since the movie came out, but this is my version. I hope ya'll enjoy it. :)

 **Disclaimer:** not mine, just borrowing to have some fun.

Not beta'd so please forgive me for any mistakes.

* * *

 **My Mission**

* * *

 _"Then finish it…because I'm with you 'til the end of the line."_

The Soldier could not stop the man's last words from repeating in his mind. Every step he took through the water, dragging his burden behind him echoed with those words.

Reaching the shore, he released his hold of the man's uniform, letting him drop easily onto the bank. He studied the beaten face, chest tight with a pain he didn't understand. The man coughed a little, water trickling from his mouth and breathed.

His chest pain eased, a strange relief given his arm was dislocated and hurting greatly. The Soldier glanced around, seeking the man's companion—the red-haired woman. He could not stay. He started to limp away, leaving the man behind.

 _Run. Hide. Return to base._

But…

The Soldier glanced back.

It was a brief flash in his mind, a mental picture so quick he barely saw it, but he recognized the man—Steve—as smaller and thinner, face bloodied and beaten, struggling to breathe. Fire surged in his blood, a powerful sense that he had never felt, yet somehow recognized.

The mission he had been given by Pierce was wrong. He was not supposed to _kill_ this man, Steve Rogers, also known as Captain America. He was supposed to _protect_ him.

* * *

Natasha did not wait for Fury to land the chopper before she jumped. She landed with a somersault and was instantly on her feet, running along the bank towards the unmoving red, white, and blue figure. Distantly behind her, she heard Sam swearing and scrambling to catch up. But it mattered little. Her whole focus was on the man who said he trusted her to save his life; a man who willingly and generously gave his trust to her despite how she had lied to him. A man she had come to trust so completely it terrified her.

"Steve!" Natasha shouted as she approached.

The man didn't move. In fact, she couldn't even tell if he was breathing.

Heart pounding, Natasha ran faster, leaping over tree branches and rocks with feline grace. He couldn't be dead. He couldn't be! Not him, not Captain America, not Steve Rogers, her friend and…

The thought never finished because she finally reached him.

She dropped down on her knees beside Steve, giving him a quick once over. Bile rose in her throat when she saw the bloody gunshot wounds on his torso and his beaten face. "Oh Steve," she whispered.

Abruptly, every hair on her arm and neck stood on end. Fool! Natasha whipped her gun around.

In the foliage not three feet away from her and the captain stood the Winter Soldier. He stared at her with cold eyes, assessing, ready to spring out of the way in a second should she decide to shoot. But Natasha was a master spy for a reason. She immediately noticed how he was holding his flesh arm. It was dislocated. The Winter Soldier had no weapon either. Not that it mattered much for a trained assassin like him.

Scowling, masking her fear, Natasha shifted so her body was between the Winter Soldier and Steve.

This man was to blame for Steve's condition. This man, Steve's one-time best friend, Bucky Barnes, had nearly killed him. If Steve wasn't treated soon, the Winter Soldier may have succeeded. Rage slipped through her blood like acid. There was no logical reason for the man to stand around watching over the fallen Captain America. He could have pounced on Natasha and killed her as she had drew near. He should have already finished Steve off. But for some inexplicable reason, he hadn't.

"Natasha did you find him?" Wilson called, jogging up. "How is he?"

The Winter Soldier's eyes widened for a moment in shock as the Falcon came into sight. Apparently he had not realized Wilson had survived the fall from the helicarriers with only one wing. The pararescuer immediately took in the scene, drawing his gun in a flash.

To Natasha's surprise the assassin didn't flee or even try to attack. Instead, he stared straight at the man, assessing. Almost curious. But it quickly disappeared when Wilson stepped closer to Natasha and Steve. The Soldier tensed, posture changing to one of attack despite the weapons aimed at him.

It was the smallest dart of the eyes down, but Natasha suddenly understood.

 _"He doesn't know you."_ They'd all told the Captain that. Told Steve he had to stop the Winter Soldier. But Steve had answered each time with utter certainty: _"He will."_

It seemed so foolish, so _naïve_ to think that Rogers' best friend would remember him after the decades of brainwashing HYDRA had put the man through. Wilson, Fury, Hill, and Natasha had all agreed on that. Barnes was dead and the Winter Soldier had to be stopped. But Steve had faith that Barnes would remember him. The price Steve had paid for his faith stained his uniform and ground beneath him red.

But Steve had been right. Bucky Barnes _did_ remember him.

That was why he was still here. Natasha's heart skipped as another conclusion rapidly formed in her mind. The Winter Soldier had pulled Steve from the water. He must have. There was no way Steve swam in his condition. He was…he was _guarding_ the fallen captain.

"Put it away, Sam," she ordered, slipping her own gun back into its holster on her thigh with deliberate precision. "Steve took a bullet through the stomach. I need you to put pressure on it."

The pararescuer sent her a short, disbelieving look before immediately refocusing on the Winter Soldier—Barnes. He had not moved. A split second later, Sam snorted and obeyed with a mumbled, "Whatever, sister."

He turned his back to the Soldier and went around to Steve's other side, kneeling down next to him.

"Hill?" Natasha tapped her comm. "Sam and I have Rogers. We need a med vac ASAP."

"There's one headed to your location now," came the senior agent's cool response. Then, in a quieter voice, "What's his status?"

"Multiple gunshot wounds, concussion, and one guard dog."

The last bit had Sam muttering, "Yeah, no kidding."

The Winter Soldier still had not stirred, following their every move and word with keen eyes. Steve's old friend may have remembered him enough to save him after nearly killing him and stuck around, but Natasha certainly didn't trust him. It was clear the assassin didn't quite know what he was doing, beyond watching the captain. One wrong move on Natasha or Sam's part and the Winter Soldier would annihilate them. It was who he was, after all.

For the first time, Natasha understood what Clint, and by extent Coulson had risked taking her alive. She knew what it was that had shaped the decisions they had made: hope. It all came down to hope. Her old life taught her hope was a weakness, something to exploit and never have herself. It was safer that way. Clint had shown her that hope wasn't always bad. He was an assassin too and knew the perils of hope. But Steve Rogers? He was hope. He believed more than anyone Natasha had ever known. But right now it was all she had. Hope that Steve would survive. Hope that the Winter Soldier did not attack. Hope that Steve was right and Bucky Barnes was in there somewhere and trying to break free. Hope that somehow all of them would come out on the other side. Natasha wasn't good at hope, but as she looked back down at the bloodied face of the good man who had calmly and sincerely told her that he would trust her, the infamous Black Widow, to save his life, she knew she had to try. She owed Steve that much.

"Hold on Steve," she whispered, cupping his head, feeling his soaked, gritty hair.

* * *

The Soldier watched the red-haired woman and the winged fighter carefully. They did not appear to be a threat to the Captain. They were treating his wounds.

Wounds _he_ had inflicted.

An unfamiliar feeling closed his throat and he tried to shrug it off. He had a mission to protect Captain America. He was the gun and the knife; he wasn't a shield or bandage.

A helicopter was approaching. He shifted his position, readying to act.

The woman noticed. "It's a medical team," she said softly. "They're going to take Steve to the hospital."

Her companion gave her an incredulous look, but otherwise did not move. The man's was holding a piece of cloth to the bullet wounds in the Captain's stomach. It was sopping wet. The Soldier became aware of an odd burning behind his eyes and pain in his chest that did not come from his own injuries. He didn't answer her, but lowered his chin, acknowledging her words.

Yes, Steve needed a hospital. Again. Punk hated them though.

…

Where did that come from?

The Soldier felt his metal hand closing into a fist. Something was wrong with him. He was malfunctioning. He could not adequately protect his former target if this continued. He needed answers. But the only one who could give those answers was dying.

Suddenly all the bruises and scrapes took on new life. The Soldier could not remember a time he was injured so badly on a mission—no doubt because his handlers had given him the wrong one from the outset. Unfortunately, this left him with a dilemma. Injured as he was, he could not carry out his new mission.

He narrowed his eyes, studying the Captain's companions. They were good fighters. They could protect the Captain from any threats that may come for a few hours.

 _And if he dies because of you?_ A voice asked.

 _He won't_ , the Soldier thought. _He's too stubborn to die._

Medics were closing in on the scene. The Soldier took his chance and melted into the shadows and disappeared.

tbc...

* * *

Thanks for reading! The conclusion for this little fic should be up in the next couple weeks. Please let me know what ya'll think.

Have a great day! :)


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Wow, thank you guys for your awesome response! I wasn't expecting it. Just, wow, thank you for each and every review and favorite! :D

To my anonymous reviewer **_ChildofGod_** : yes, I am a Christian. I love Jesus Christ and despite all the ups and downs and craziness of this life, I trust Him to have the helm. Judging by your name, you are too? If you'd like to discuss our faith and Jesus Christ feel free to PM me and we can chat. And bless you for your enthusiasm for this fic! Your reviews encouraging me to update soon are one of the main reasons I'm posting this today instead of a week from now. I hope you enjoy it. :)

 _ **Leradomi**_ , you got your wish: this story has officially become more than a two-shot. *facepalm* Even though I have 10k to write for a Hobbit fic due in two weeks...Lol.

So before we get this show on the road, I want to thank my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ for His abounding mercy and love. I am so blessed and thank Him with all my heart for all He provides. :D

 **Disclaimer:** Not mine obviously.

And not beta'd at all. So please forgive me for any mistakes. Enjoy!

* * *

 **My Mission: Part 2**

* * *

Night fell on the city, yet chaos continued to reign. The smoldering remains of the helicarriers still burned and hundreds of law enforcement and emergency units were everywhere. The Soldier had taken a dark blue, hooded sweater from the back of a car and moved through the crowds with invisible ease. Checkpoints were everywhere and he took great care to avoid them. As he wove through the pandemonium, the Soldier determined that he needed medical supplies.

The closest hospital to the river was as frenzied as the outside. And far too full of law enforcement. He kept walking. By then the pain had dulled to a steady throb, a reminder of the fight and his near demise. If the Captain had not come back for him, he would be dead.

The Soldier forced the memory aside. Not now. He needed to focus. Thinking about the Captain's actions and words only made the malfunction worse.

Eventually, he found a hospital busy enough but far enough from the river that there were few law enforcement officers around. It was easy enough to slip inside to find what he needed. It was not easy, however, to control the sudden need to flee back into the darkness and shadows outside. The smell of antiseptic and blood and cleaner burned his nostrils. Grabbing whatever he found in the first room, he practically ran outside, ignoring the confused looks from nurses, doctors, and patients alike. There was no time for them to think about him further with the demands of the injured.

He walked away from the hospital as fast as he dared. When he was a couple blocks away, he broke into a run. He didn't stop running until he found himself in a park of some kind with an odd white pillar and man-made lake. Only then, away from all the people and lights, did the Soldier stop running.

He coughed for a moment hunched over, shaking.

Something danced at the edge of his mind, a taste of familiarity and terror. The Soldier wiped sweat from his brow and tried to control his breathing.

 _I know him._

Words that might have been his sounded in his mind.

He knew him. The Captain. His mission.

 _"Bucky, you've known me your whole life."_

Then he was very small. Smaller than he remembered ever being. The soldier was looking at a scrawny, blonde haired boy wrapped in a colored blanket of some sort, book in his hand, propped up on a bed.

The boy smiled at him. It was strange smile. Soft, without the fear or disgust.

"I'm reading _The Wizard of Oz_. Mrs. Kirkley gave it to Ma yesterday saying I might enjoy it. I think you will too."

He was at the edge of a large bed, peering up as the boy spoke. Then, to his surprise, he was nodding and was scrambling to climb up. The boy laughed and reached out a bony hand to help him up. Once he was on the bed, he crawled over to the boy and found himself wrapped in the blanket next to the blonde. It was warm. Comfortable. The body next to his was bony and he could hear a slight wheeze but he didn't know what it was.

"You're getting too big for this," the boy laughed. "Gonna be bigger than me soon."

There was something sad about his words. But…proud?

A small, chubby hand reached out and tapped the book in the boy's hand insistently. Was it his? But it was…flesh. Not metal.

The boy chuckled and began to read, but the words were lost on him. Red colored his vision and suddenly exploded in a white hot inferno.

The Soldier screamed and hit something hard. Dazed, he looked around and found himself on the ground in the back of an unfamiliar alley. The stone pillar was gone. His head pounded, like when they put him in the…

The thought didn't finish because the next minute he was retching. When his stomach finally calmed, he sank back with a cut off sob, desperately trying to regain control. What was wrong with him? What had the mission done to him?

The small blonde boy with the blue eyes was looking at him again. Smiling. But it was different. Not fearful or angry

Shuddering, he rammed his metal fist into the concrete. This was wrong. All wrong. _He_ was all wrong.

 ** _Bucky._**

 _Who the hell is Bucky?_

Because his handlers had given him the wrong mission in the beginning must be why this was happening. If he had been guarding the Captain like he was supposed to, he wouldn't be malfunctioning right now. Except…he didn't remember guarding anyone. He had targets, missions that he eliminated—he killed. Protecting had never been part of his mandate. Had it?

Gritting his teeth, the taste of vomit tainting his mouth, the Soldier forced himself to sit up.

He did not have time for this. The Captain should be safely in a hospital somewhere and recovering. _If he survived_. He needed to tend to his wounds and then collect Intel. Starting with where the woman with red hair and the man with metal wings took the Captain.

The sun was just peaking above the horizon in the east when the Soldier finished tending to his wounds. His dislocated shoulder was the worst and he could not fix it alone. He should go back to base. Continuing his mission with such an injury was not safe.

Something coiled in his belly at the thought of going back to base. His chest burned and his metal hand clenched. Pierce had given him the wrong mission. He was not trustworthy. It was not a mistake. He could not go back. They would wipe him; take the incomplete mission from him because he had failed the original. Baring his teeth, the Soldier determined it was in the best interest of his new mission if he stayed away from them. And if they tried to interfere, he would eliminate them.

His injuries tended, the Soldier got to his feet.

If he was going to avoid his handlers in order to complete his mission, he had to get rid of the clothes they had given him. Pulling the stolen blue hoodie back on, the Soldier set off. As he stepped out of the alley he could see the pillar in the distance. A monument. A needle in the sky.

He started walking.

* * *

Natasha sank down into the blue hospital chair, thankful it wasn't a cheap plastic white one like it always was in books and movies. The heart monitor beeped slowly but steadily beside the bed. She never thought she would be so relieved to hear it. After over twelve hours in surgery, Steve had been finally moved to the ICU. He would survive. The bullet that tore through his abdomen would have killed a normal man, but Steve wasn't normal. He was a super-soldier and he would live. At least until she could kick his butt for being such an idiot.

She glanced at his bruised face. Steve was sleeping, or unconscious if you asked the doctor. He seemed peaceful for the moment. As peaceful as a man can look when half his face is pulp. It wasn't as bad as it had been on the riverbank though.

Natasha looked towards the window and saw the sun coming up in the east.

 _"If it was down to me to save your life, would you trust me to do it?"_

 _"I would now."_

Natasha laced her fingers through Steve's slowly. He trusted her. Even knowing who and what she was, despite all her lies, he _trusted_ her. She could not explain the warmth inside her, the disbelief she felt at being given such trust. Somewhere along the way, Natasha realized she trusted Steve too; trusted his judgement. Steve had believed that Barnes would remember him. There, on the side of the Potomac, she had seen that trust had not been wholly misplaced and she'd made a call a year ago she would not have. She let the Winter Soldier go and focused just on saving Rogers. It was illogical, pure emotion, and everything she'd been trained not to do. But she trusted him just as he trusted her.

"Hey."

She turned. "Hey."

Sam entered the room, haggard but dressed in fresh clothes, a duffel in one hand and a book in the other.

"How's he doing?"

"The doctor said he's healing fast and will probably wake by this afternoon."

"Man, that serum is sure something. Can't say I'm not grateful for it."

Natasha nodded, pulling her had carefully—casually—free.

"Should we be expecting the guard dog to come back anytime soon or do you think he's on the run?"

Guard dog. The Winter Soldier. Bucky Barnes. The one and the same person and yet not.

"I don't know," Natasha admitted quietly, hating she did not have an answer. "Instinct will tell him to run, but he was still there when we found Rogers, so…"

"So, he might come back."

Natasha didn't reply. What could she say? Nothing. It was time to call in some major back-up. With Steve down, there was no one else capable of withstanding the Winter Soldier's attacks should he return to finish his failed mission.

"I need to make some calls."

"Well, here," Sam handed her the duffel. "Take a break too while you're at it. I got this."

She took the duffel gingerly, surprised. Wilson smiled at her, catching her surprise. She really did need to rest if Wilson was seeing through her. "Go on now. Make all those secret calls and grab a shower. I've got his back."

A little dazed, Natasha started towards the door and then stopped.

"Hey Sam."

"Yeah?"

Natasha looked back at the soldier and then at the wounded soldier sleeping on the bed. "Thanks."

 **tbc...**

* * *

Thank you for reading! Please let me know what ya'll think. :)

More coming soon. (ie when I have spare time, lol)

Have a great day!

Noelani


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** *peeks up from under rock and waves* Hi! Long time no see! So here I am at last with an update for this fic. Crazy life is crazy and its about to get crazier as I move in three weeks so I wanted to get this up while I could.

To all my reviewers: Thank you so much for your interest in this story! You guys are awesome and I hope ya'll enjoy this short installment. :)

To my reviewer **ChildofGod** : I absolutely believe in salvation by faith through our Lord Jesus Christ in accordance with what is written in Scripture (Eph. 2:8-9). :) And remembering that promise is a great comfort for me especially when all I seem to do is mess up. Hope all is well with you!

Disclaimer: not mine, obviously.

Also not beta'd again, so please forgive me for any mistakes.

 **A personal note:** I would like to thank my Lord Jesus Christ for His innumerable blessings and boundless grace and love. Whatever sins I commit in this earthly place, I know when I come before him humbly seeking forgiveness I am forgiven. And He will pick me back up and by His power will my iniquities be defeated. Not my own. Thank you Jesus for dying to save me, a person so unworthy and foolish. Amen.

* * *

 **My Mission: Part 3**

* * *

Finding Captain America was far too easy. All he had to look for was extra security at a hospital and then determine the floor and room. Easy. But time consuming. It took several hours of checking hospitals before he found the right one. He knew he'd located the right one when he saw a security guard with the name of Stark Security on the lapel pacing in the lobby. There was something familiar about the name, something bitter. Considering the malfunction he'd had when confronted by the captain, it followed that anything pertaining to him would result in malfunctions.

He left the hospital in search of a good vantage point. By noon, the Soldier was concealed on top the tallest building nearby; using a pair of binoculars he'd stolen from the front seat of a police car to survey the windows of the hospital. The Glock he'd taken was tucked into the holster on his hip.

The winged man was the first one he saw. He was holding a plastic cup and talking to someone in what appeared to be a bed. A large, bruised hand reached out to accept the cup. The Soldier inhaled sharply and tension seemed to drain from his shoulders. He had not killed the Captain. The man was alive.

 _Too stubborn to._

The Soldier ignored the thought and the relaxing tension he didn't know the name of. There were still too many unknown sensations and thoughts caused by the mission.

 _"You've known me your whole life."_

He watched as the dark man conversed with the person the hand belonged to. There were no signs of trouble, but he did not like how slow the man was moving. HYDRA would be continuing the false mission and would launch an assault soon.

When the red-headed woman came in, pale and worn, the soldier growled in frustration. She seemed to be as capable as the Captain's other companion right now.

It was up to him then to ensure the Captain's safety while he healed.

The Soldier spent the afternoon scouting around the hospital and stealing weapons from unsuspecting policemen who left back-ups in their cars. It wasn't as much as he'd like and if HYDRA launched an attack it would not be an easy fight. He had no doubt he could handle whatever strike team was sent—the dead from the helicarriers being destroyed was high and the Soldier suspected many of the teams he normal worked with were dead—leaving him facing the lesser trained teams. The Soldier knew he could kill them though. That was, after all, why HYDRA trained him.

For some reason though, the thought brought no assurance. Instead a queasy feeling grew in his chest; like a hole inside him suddenly ripped open. He vaguely recalled it from before—a frequent feeling from when he woke after the chair. It never made any sense. In fact, the hole made him angry. Why was there a hole in him? Physically, he was in good condition, his dislocated arm notwithstanding. He supposed the hole came from the wiped memories—something he had deduced and miraculously never forgotten. Yet that did not seem sufficient.

He brushed those thoughts aside. Now was not the time for idle thoughts. He had a mission and distractions were unacceptable. The mission itself came with enough distractions. The Soldier's eyes narrowed as he saw the Captain's legs swing over the side of the bed. He'd shot the man in one leg. Was he really going to try standing?

 _Stupid punk. He needs rest!_

Then the captain's flying companion was there, talking and holding him back. Good. At least the man was proving somewhat competent. The woman did not appear to be in the room. He frowned. That meant he had no idea where she was and that left him vulnerable. The information his handlers initially provided on the woman, code named Black Widow, listed her as an assassin in her own right and highly skilled. He vaguely recalled fighting her; shooting her even. But nothing else. Regardless, it was not good.

The captain was still trying to get out of bed. The other man, to the Soldier's consternation, capitulated and placed an arm around his shoulder to help him up.

 _Are you crazy? Can't you see he needs to stay in bed?_

Lips peeling back in a snarl, the soldier considering shooting the man just on principle. Why was he letting the captain up?

Then Black Widow was there, pushing a wheelchair. Her expression was pinched. The Soldier could see the captain back now, including the blood-stained white bandage wrapped all around his torso. It was suddenly difficult to swallow. Like his tongue had swelled taking all the moisture in his mouth with it.

He did that. He shot the Captain. He nearly failed his mission because Pierce gave him the wrong one. Heat burned his chest and throat, hands curling into fists. If Pierce and his handlers had given him the wrong mission regarding the captain, wasn't it possible his other missions were wrong as well?

The thought made his stomach churn.

No! Stop thinking! He was not supposed to think beyond his mission. Thinking led to questions, questions led to trouble, trouble led to pain. He wanted to avoid the pain. Therefore, he could not keep harboring these…thoughts. These questions.

 _"You're my friend."_

And he certainly wasn't going to let the Captain's words from their fight stop him.

The captain was situated in the chair by then, and the three of them disappeared from the window.

The Soldier shifted his attention to the area around the hospital. That's when he saw the suspicious black van pulling up in the alley. He stood, gun in hand.

It was time to go to work.

 **tbc...**

* * *

Thanks for reading! I hope ya'll enjoyed it. :) Please review and let me know what you think.

Oh, and stay tuned for the final two parts of this story! There will be a lot more action in the next chapter as **\- Spoiler Alert!-** the Soldier faces off with not just HYDRA but Iron Man!

Have a great day!

Noelani


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** *waves* Hi! Yes I am alive and no I have not forgotten about this story! I'm so sorry for the long wait, between moving three times and writer's block for a certain scene, writing hasn't been easy. But I'm back with a new chapter at last. Yay! The trailers for Captain America: Civil War inspired my muse. ;)

A special thank you to all those who have left reviews/favorited/followed this story. You guys are fantastic. :D And as a bit of a gift, this story has now expanded to be six parts plus and epilogue (which has been written since last summer, lol). So there are two more chapters coming and then the epilogue. :) Hope ya'll will enjoy it.

Finally, and above all, I want to say thank you to my lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, for His great blessings and unending love. I have been blessed!

 **Disclaimer:** Not mine, just borrowing

Oh and uh, not beta'd so please forgive any mistakes. This chapter proved a real challenge...though the next one has been even tougher. Anywho, enjoy! :)

* * *

 **My Mission: Part 4**

* * *

By nightfall, the Soldier was exhausted and bleeding anew. HYDRA had sent three stealth teams to take out the captain over the past several hours. He'd killed every operative and hidden the bodies in dumpsters and shadows of the alleys. After the first team, he had gained a machine gun and several more handguns, complete with bullet clips. Once more he carried a full arsenal with him and it left him satisfied. He was prepared for anything. The other two teams found that out right away.

It was past midnight and he was watching from the rooftop across and down from the Captain's new room. Apparently, for some reason the Soldier couldn't fathom, his mission had been relocated to the top floor of the hospital. It irked him to no end that after taking out the first HYDRA team, he'd had to find the Captain all over again.

A roar like the jet he flew up to the helicarrier yet far quieter cut through the night. He ducked down into the shadows, pressing in close to the wall, not moving and barely breathing. The sound grew closer and he dared to peak out.

The roar came from a metal flying object. It looked like a man, painted obnoxiously in red and gold. Not a stealth suit so not likely to be HYDRA. Nevertheless, the Soldier tracked the metal man's progress carefully. There was something on its arm…

The Captain's shield!

But…it had been lost in the river.

" _I'm not going to fight you. You're my_ —"

Ruthlessly, the Soldier cut off the memory as he scuttled along the rooftop to get a clearer view.

The metal suit landed on the hospital roof and suddenly the metal began to fold away, revealing a man. He looked…familiar. A threat. He studied the man closer, noting the swagger as he picked up his metal suit which had folded into a suitcase of all things. A threat. An iron man…distantly the Soldier recalled a briefing on such a man and how his skill with technology was almost unparalleled. And he had the Captain's shield.

Fire burned in his blood and the Soldier almost sited the man with his gun but refrained. There was something about the iron suit…something…dangerous. He had to be cautious.

He settled for watching. The man with the iron man suit went inside and it wasn't long before the Soldier saw him in the Captain's room. The metal suit suitcase was gone, but the shield was in the man's hands. His eyes narrowed as he studied the man's features in the artificial light. Dark hair, goatee, lined face suggesting someone older, forties to fifties perhaps. Odd. The Captain was much younger than he. Still there was something…the way the dark haired man moved, his appearance…it was familiar. Not just because of the report he'd read, no, this was similar to how the Captain seemed familiar. But whereas the Soldier was confident that he knew his mission at some point, he certainly had not known this man with the iron man suit.

The Soldier's confusion was disrupted by the man handing the shield to the bed-ridden captain. Suddenly it felt like a great weight had lifted from his shoulders. The Captain had his shield back!

The two men spoke for a little while longer and then the older man moved out of his line of vision. He did not seem to have left the room and the Soldier frowned in irritation. He had weapons now but still no way to know what was happening in the hospital except what he could see through the window. While it was obvious the Captain was not in danger from his injuries, the Soldier knew the injuries were nonetheless severe. The Soldier considered for a moment. He would wait until everything was quiet and then he would sneak into the Captain's room. It was time to assess his mission up close.

* * *

Hours slipped by and everything had been quiet since the Iron Man arrived. It was time. With expert stealth, he made his way from roof to roof, jumping and landing with silent tumble rolls each time. Then he was directly across from the hospital. It was a high jump. Calculating trajectory and height, he took a couple running steps and leapt. He caught the ledge and easily pulled himself up and over, barely making a sound as he scuttled into the shadows of a vent. He stayed in a crouch for a long minute, barely breathing, listening to see if anyone heard him. Everything remained quiet. Machines were humming and beeping, nurses and doctors talking…it made the Soldier cold.

Suddenly he didn't want to go into the hospital at all. It was dangerous. A threat. But if it was a threat then the Captain needed to be taken out of there. The Captain was hurt, however, and the doctors and nurses were helping him. It wasn't like the care the Soldier received from Hydra. There wasn't any pain. No chair…

Again, the Soldier thrust those thoughts into the far corners of his mind. Focus!

He would have to enter the same service door that the iron man from earlier had. It could be wired, though he doubted it. The Captain seemed to be surrounded by idiots and proper precautions seemed to be the last thing on their minds. And it made no sense. Black Widow at least should have recognized the danger. But then it had been some time since he had spotted her. Perhaps she was doing something useful. He may encounter her now. Well, he could beat her, even if he didn't want to. That wasn't his purpose in visiting the hospital. He was here to assess his mission up close.

The door opened easily, squeaking far too loudly for the Soldier's taste. He scanned the dark stairwell and found nothing.

They really were idiots.

Silently, he slipped down the stairs and found the door to the Captain's floor. This was where it would be tricky to get in unseen. Carefully he peered into the dimly lit hall. To his shock, no one was around. The hair on the back of his neck immediately stood on end. This wasn't right.

He pulled out his knife with one hand and Glock with the other. And he waited.

Finally there was movement down the hall. The Wing Man stepped out of the Captain's room, rubbing the back of neck and muttering to himself. The other hand touched his ribcage where the Soldier had kicked him when he took down the flier. The Soldier remained perfectly still, breathing regulated to slowness near impossible to detect. Then a phone buzzed and the black man looked at.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming," he grumbled. He rubbed his face once more and walked to the elevator. A minute later it was gone and everything was utterly still.

Quietly, the Soldier pulled open the door and darted inside the hallway. It was twenty steps to the Captain's room from his position. He made it in fifteen. He peered inside quickly and listened. No one was here but the Captain. He quickly slipped inside the room, thankful there light was off and ducked into the shadows.

He stopped in his tracks as he caught sight of the Captain's battered face in the faint light. It felt like a cavity had opened in his chest, stealing his breath and thoughts so fast it hurt. He had done this. He had almost completed the wrong mission. He had almost completely failed. And if he had…

A shuddered wracked him from head to toe. Suddenly all the reasons he had to check on the Captain in person disappeared. Why had he come?

The hospital room melted away, leaving a far different room. Shabby and rundown, a small form was on the bed shivering under a small mound of blankets.

 _"The fever's breaking_ ," a tired feminine voice said. He tried to see her, but found he couldn't turn away from the figure on the bed.

" _How do you know_?" He asked, not able to speak above a whisper. " _He's been so sick. The doctor…"_

" _Has never believed in his survival, But my boy is a fighter_."

He swallowed, cold.

" _Can I…?"_

" _Of course."_

Then he was walking forward and he could see the boy on the bed. It was the Captain. Years younger and frailer than the man he just saw in the hospital bed, but not as young as the previous time he saw him with the book about Oz.

The Soldier was not equipped to comprehend the backlash of feelings. A whine sounded in his throat. He couldn't do this. He was completely useless; utterly helpless in face of this attack on the Captain's person.

Blue eyes blinked at him, unfocused for a moment. " _Bucky?_ "

The Soldier reeled back and the vision fell away, leaving him in the hospital room once more, panting for breath. He pressed a fist to his face, scrambling to regain control. These…these flashes had to stop! How could he complete his mission with these things popping into his head? The voices, the emotions; it was too much! He was vulnerable and HYDRA would defeat him if he faltered.

Unacceptable.

Taking a deep breath, the Soldier straightened and looked down at his mission. The man was moving slightly, clearly disturbed by his presence. He stepped back and turned away.

He would not approach the Captain again. Everything was worse the closer he was. And he dared not think if…

"Bucky."

He froze, another shudder hitting him. Slowly he turned around, already knowing what he would find.

The blonde man's fearful expression wasn't the fear he was accustomed to. There was a softness to it, an edge that did not fit with the flashes of men and women cowering before he ended them. He could see their round eyes, tears and puckering, quivering mouths as they plead and screamed if they had a chance. Most didn't. Why? Who was this Captain America that he would look at the Soldier in such a way? Why did the Captain save him on the helicarrier when he had the chance to kill him?

The questions that started when he fought the man on the helicarrier were crowding his mind again with fresh vigor and he had no way to handle them. He wasn't supposed to ask questions beyond Intel necessary to complete his mission; except the Intel on this mission had been wrong since the beginning. Now he was malfunctioning with increasing intensity and frequency. He had to stop this. He needed to leave.

"Bucky…"

Frustrated he rammed his metal fist into the mattress.

"Stop calling me that!" The cry tore out of him without his permission. But it was true. He was not this…this Bucky person. He couldn't be. He was the Soldier, the Asset, the Fist of Hydra. A machine of destruction. A killer. He had no name. His mission may have reset, but that did not change what he was, did it?

It was a question the Soldier had no answer to. And the more time passed the greater his confusion became. Peirce had given him a faulty mission. What else could his handlers have told him, ordered him to do, which was inaccurate? His mind shied from the thought. Don't go there. Don't think of it. If he did…he shivered, feeling as if the ice of the cyro-freeze chamber was stealing over him.

The Captain had obediently fallen silent while he'd battled his thoughts. So caught up in the confusion, he was not prepared for the light brush of fingers on his curled, flesh hand. He jumped back, a knife immediately in hand, ready to fight.

"I'm sorry," the man said, looking down. "I…I just can't believe you're here."

The Soldier didn't know what to make of this. No one had ever apologized to him. For anything. He was given orders and he was expected to obey. Failure was met with severe punishment. But this man, Captain America, looked at him differently. Spoke different. Like he didn't see a machine but a person. He didn't know how to respond to that.

Abruptly, the Soldier sheathed the knife and turned away from the bed, stomping toward the door.

"Wait! Bu—You're hurt."

He swore silently. For a man who nearly died a day ago, he was terribly observant. It was also clear that if the Captain noticed his injuries then others would as well. He had to tend to them somehow. That meant leaving the Captain vulnerable. No, the Captain had his shield back. Even in his hurt condition, the Soldier knew that the Captain could best a squad of HYDRA. He'd done it before. Wait, how did he know the Captain had fought HYDRA while hurt before?

Cursing more colorfully now, he forced himself not to think about the mystery of how he knew that. Instead he glanced around the room for the familiar shield. It wasn't there.

"Where's the shield?" The Soldier spun around sharply. The iron man had taken the shield and given it to the Captain. The Soldier had seen him! Why wasn't it here? The Captain's brow was furrowed. His confusion infuriated the Soldier. He stalked back toward the bed. "The shield. The iron man had it. Where is it?"

How could the Captain defend himself without the shield? He needed that shield!

"Tony has it. He's bringing it back."

A growl rumbled in his throat. That shield belonged to the Captain, and the Captain alone. No one else had any business with it.

Instead of being fearful, the blonde man quirked a smile; "You were the one taking out the HYDRA teams all day."

The Soldier stared at the bedridden man, baffled and infuriated that the Captain knew of the attempted attacks. There had been no indication that any of them—the Captain or his companions—were aware of how vulnerable they were. Stupidly, they had remained in the hospital, acting as if the few guards that had come would be enough to deter HYDRA. It had frustrated him to no end, especially since he dared not leave any bodies to be found in case a lockdown was initiated and those who were supposedly there to protect the Captain turned out to be HYDRA. HYDRA was everywhere. And the idiots supposed to be guarding the Captain had not gone beyond basic measures of protection.

He glowered fiercely at the man, not having the words to describe his displeasure.

The Captain grew serious and met his gaze directly, to the Soldier's disbelief. "That's why Tony is here. I'm going to stay at his place while I heal."

Simultaneously the Soldier felt another wave of contradicting sensations. It was good the Captain was aware of the danger and leaving this vulnerable position, but why was he informing the soldier where he was going? He had just tried to kill the man! Faulty mission or not, the Soldier was certain that the Captain should not be this calm or informative. It came back to—no, he wasn't going there.

"You need the shield," the Soldier ground out. He was not going to be distracted!

The Captain nodded. "I know. Tony should be back with it soon. He wanted to clean it up."

His scowl deepened. He would have to check the shield then to ensure this iron man, Tony, did not do anything to it.

"Steve!"

The Soldier whirled to find the red and gold iron man charging from the doorway. On his back was the Captain shield.

Snarling, the Solder charged in turn, already weaving, ready to take back what belonged to the Captain.

The Soldier heard the Captain shout, but he blocked it out. His mission was clear: protect the Captain and ensure the Captain could protect himself. He was getting that shield.

...

 **tbc...**

* * *

Well, how was that for a cliffhanger? :P Yeah, sorry, no fight with Iron Man yet. The Winter Soldier and Iron Man haven't been cooperating. Next chapter, promise!

Thank ya'll so much for reading. :)

Please leave a review and tell me what you think? Reviews are hugs for authors. :D

Have a great day! -Noelani


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** *bounces excitedly* Hello ya'll! I'm finally back with an update for this story and just in time for _Captain America: Civil War_ to be released in theaters. What makes it even more awesome is I'm going to see it with my dad for a rare father and daughter date tomorrow! :D I can't wait!

Ahem, but back on task.

Thank you so much to all those who have reviewed, favorited, and followed this story. You guys are amazing and I am hope you enjoy this update. :)

Before that I want to thank my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, for His great mercy and patience with some as weak and faulty as me. I am every day amazed anew at His great love.

 **Disclaimer:** Not mine, I'm just borrowing. :)

Also this isn't beta'd so please forgive any mistakes!

* * *

 **My Mission: Part 5**

* * *

 ** _10 minutes prior…_**

Natasha slumped against the wall, exhaustion lending weight to her bones. She looked at the Stark phone in her hand, giving to her by the man himself when he arrived a couple hours ago.

After getting cleaned up, knowing Rogers was safely under the Falcon's watchful eye, she started making calls. Maria was occupied with cleanup and coordinating with Capitol Hill. But they needed more help. So her first call had been to Pepper Potts. If there was anyone who could handle the looming fallout from the destruction of SHIELD and HYDRA as so publicly seen over the Potomac, it was Pepper.

Thankfully, Tony had been with her and Natasha had not needed to repeat what happened twice. Both had already known about the destruction of the helicarriers but had not known any of the details, largely because the operation to stop the Insight Carriers and take down SHIELD and HYDRA had been played extremely close to the vest with only five people (six if you counted the doctor) in the know. Stark had naturally been furious he hadn't been called in.

He'd gone quiet when Natasha snapped back that he'd destroyed all his Iron Man suits a few months before and was still recuperating from an extensive surgery. Involving him had not been an option.

Pepper had broken the icy silence, asking what the condition was of the team. She had told them about Rogers.

"He was shot how many times? Where was his shield?" Tony had demanded, fuming. "Stupid flying Frisbee. Need a magnet or something to make sure he can't drop it…"

Natasha had let him rant. She'd been going on missions with Steve regularly for the past year. The super soldier was more than capable of fighting without his shield. From what Hill had told her during the initial wait while the captain had been in surgery, it seemed Rogers had been shot in the minute before the Insight carriers were going to open fire. The shots were fired from a distance, which meant Rogers had probably taken the Winter Soldier down, but not fatally, resulting in him being shot as he scrambled to get the last chip into place. But Stark didn't need to know that yet.

"You're all coming to the tower," Tony had said. "There's no way all of HYDRA is dead if they were so deep into SHIELD. They'll be gunning for Cap."

"Yes. But he just got out of surgery," she'd said. "He can't move yet."

"Fine, then I'm coming to you."

"How?"

"I'll build a suit," the inventor had snapped. "Won't take long and clearly with Rogers out the picture you're going to need help. I'll send my security to the hospital. Which one are you at? Never mind. Jarvis."

"On it, sir."

"While the boys take care of that," Pepper said, a slight tremor in her voice, "How are you, Natasha?"

The other woman's kindness had almost undone her. But she couldn't afford to lose face. Her past was out there now for the whole world to see. Stark had decided to come, just like she had predicted he would, bringing much needed security with him which had eased her worries. But it wasn't enough though. The person she needed to talk to most she didn't dare contact with an insecure line. She'd had to wait.

"I've been worse," she'd said. It was a half-truth. But Natasha couldn't bring herself to share anymore. With a polite goodbye, she hung up. She'd then called Hill to let her know that Stark and Ms. Potts were involved.

She fingered the tiny golden arrow around her neck. Before the assault on SHIELD, she'd managed to send a quick coded message to Clint to stay away from D.C and destroy anything he had related to SHIELD. He would have gone to ground, waiting for her to contact him.

Natasha needed to talk with him. Clint had brought her in to SHIELD, had been beside her every step of the way as she'd transitioned from a KGB assassin to a SHIELD agent. Calling on a Stark phone was more secure than anything else, but she hoped that Stark's A.I didn't track the call and that Clint was at a bar like he should be, waiting to hear from her.

She dialed the emergency number she'd memorized and put the phone to her ear. Natasha knew once she spoke with Clint her defenses would be done for. He would see right through her; he'd know how raw she really was.

Clint answered on the second ring. "Nat?"

"Here Clint."

She heard the loud whoosh of air as he exhaled sharply. "You safe?"

"For the moment."

"I've been on the internet. Is it true?"

Natasha closed her eyes and told herself the ache inside her came from the gunshot wound. "It's true."

Clint swore. "Casualties?"

She swallowed hard. The full truth would have to wait until they could meet. "Fury. Rogers took multiple hits."

More swearing. "And you?"

"Shot and electrocuted with one of my stingers."

"What?" Clint shouted. "How the—"

"I did it to myself. It was necessary," Natasha quickly explained. She listened as the older man growled on the other end, clearly not pleased with her explanation.

"They'll be coming for all of you."

She was glad he didn't press. Clint would demand a full explanation, but he knew as any good spy did the necessity of keeping things to the point.

"Stark's here. We're taking Rogers to Stark Tower in an hour. We'll be safe there."

"Natasha."

 _You sure you don't want me there?_

Natasha felt the fear and uncertainty easing at her best friend's concern. "I'll call Tuesday."

"Better make it Monday." Message received. He'd be expecting her as soon as she could get away. Relief pulsed through Natasha. Not even after she had defected had she been so thankful to have a safe place to go to. The world now knew everything about her past; that was on record in SHIELD's database anyway. But Clint's past remained partially obscure. And in that obscurity there was safety, for a short time anyway.

Her first concern, however, was keeping Steve safe. Wilson was coming toward her. She hung up quickly. "What is it?"

"Stark's on his way up with Steve's shield," Sam said, inclining his head. "I figured it would be better to meet him out here than risk waking Steve."

Natasha smiled. "Yeah, Steve would wake up as soon as he hears Stark's voice."

"I'm surprised he let him take the shield, to be honest."

She inclined her head in agreement. The vibranium shield was a part of Steve, like an arm or a leg. That he'd willingly allowed Stark to take it demonstrated his trust in the billionaire. Tony had not really expected it either, Natasha thought, recalling his expression when after berating the injured captain for its condition and rambling about it needing to be cleaned up how Steve had calmly cut in and asked Tony if he'd clean it up. Naturally the billionaire agreed and babbled more to the amusement of the rest of them before he took off.

That was several hours ago. What Stark had been doing in those hours was a mystery because it certainly did not take that long to clean a shield. Natasha suspected the inventor had been taking measurements and designing a magnetic gauntlet like he'd mentioned when she called him.

The elevator chimed and Natasha and Sam looked to see the billionaire as he stepped out, shield in hand.

"Well, it's definitely clean," Sam said, amused. Natasha couldn't blame him. The shield looked brand new and the colors were more vibrant than ever.

"Yep!" Tony declared with a broad grin on his face. "This is the new and improved patriotic Frisbee."

Natasha tuned out as the billionaire began to brag about the first prototype gauntlet he'd made for the shield. It was strange to see it like that after so many months of the 'stealth shield' as Natasha had dubbed it. Sam was clearly intrigued by the high tech that Tony had. Pleased, Tony pulled out a pad to show Sam some of the designs he'd also begun for a new Falcon pack when the AI, Jarvis, suddenly spoke up with some urgency from it.

"Sir, I'm detecting an intruder in the Captain's room. It's the Winter Soldier."

Natasha felt her heart skip.

Steve.

Then she was running, Sam and Tony fast on her heels. As they ran she heard Tony barking orders to Jarvis and the whir of the Iron Man suit unfolding and encasing its maker. Iron Man moved in front of her as they came up to Steve's room.

"Steve!" Natasha cried as she saw the Winter Solder looming over the bed. The Winter Soldier spun around and for a brief moment he looked like the spooked, protective figure she'd encountered at the river bank, guarding Steve's broken body. But as Stark charged forward in his Iron Man suit, she caught his eyes narrowing, a furious snarl twisting his features as he surged forward.

His focus wasn't on Tony, though. It was on Steve's shield.

* * *

A blast of energy came from the Iron man's hand, but the Soldier easily dodged.

"Tony!"

He heard the Captain tumble from the bed behind him with a pained grunt as he dodged the blast. Roaring, the Soldier flew at the figure, wrenching the shield from the Iron Man's grip and slammed it into the metal form. The Iron Man slid back several feet. Before he could attack again another blast came from the metal form's glowing hand and it smashed into his shoulder, sending him spinning into the hospital wall.

He fumbled to get a better grip on the Captain's shield as the Iron Man flew towards him. He brought it up just in time to block his opponent's next blow. Slithering away from the Iron Man as he attempted to pin him, the Soldier brought the shield up in a hard uppercut to the thing's jaw with force that would have shattered a person's jaw. The Iron Man staggered back and the Soldier pushed his advantage, striking with both the shield and his metal arm repeatedly.

The Iron Man staggered under the onslaught. Sneering, the Soldier moved in to finish his opponent. He was not expecting the glowing power circle in the suit chest to blast him. It sent him careening through the hospital room window. Pain coursed through his body, his earlier injuries practically screaming. Grunting, he rolled just as the Iron Man stamped down on the spot where he landed. He scrambled to his feet, swearing as he realized the blast had knocked the Captain's shield from his hand.

"Tony stop!" The Captain yelled from his shielded position between the Wing Man and Black Widow. The Iron Man growled. "No way."

The Soldier didn't allow the Iron Man to say anymore, attacking once again. That power circle in the middle of the suit chest was the key to taking down his opponent. It seemed the Iron Man realized this because he grabbed the Soldier's metal arm.

"Time to take this away from the patient."

The next thing the Soldier knew they were blasting through the roof. With a twist and a kick, the Soldier broke the Iron Man hold and dropped to the roof of the hospital. No longer contained indoors, his opponent had just become more dangerous.

The Soldier staggered to his feet, tasting blood. He glared at the Iron Man as it prepared to attack him again.

"That's enough!"

The Soldier and his opponent both froze as the Captain's shield flew in-between them and ricocheted off the wall to hit a pipe before returning to the hand of its owner. The Captain stood on the rooftop, dressed in a thin robe with Black Widow and Wing Man flanking him, glaring at them.

"Stark, stand down."

"He put four bullets in you, Steve! And you think he isn't going to finish the job?"

 _Steve? Stark?_ Fear lanced the Soldier in the gut. Why did he know those names?

The Soldier shook off the feeling. Now was not the time to be distracted. The Iron Man was a hard opponent, especially with all of his current injuries, but the Soldier knew he could take him down. The fiery pain lancing his shoulder and blistering his leg were nothing. He had worse. He should attack now, while the enemy was preoccupied; wrench out the glowing circle that powered the suit. Yet he didn't. The Captain was on his feet, had interfered in the fight. More importantly, the Iron Man no longer had the Captain's shield. The Captain had it. It looked right in his hands, natural; a part of him. Like the Soldier's guns.

To the Soldier's surprise it was Black Widow who answered. "No, he wasn't."

The Iron Man made a strange sputtering sound. He tried to cover his own surprise, but he caught the knowing tilt of the woman's head. Black Widow had assessed his change in mission. She knew he wasn't a threat to the Captain. He gritted his teeth. He'd given her the advantage. Idiot!

"Stand down," the Captain barked again. His authoritative voice belied the shaking in his legs and trembling of his wounded torso. The shield hid the worst, but the Soldier knew the damage he'd wrought. A scowl formed. The Captain should be in bed resting, not out interfering in his mission to protect him! The Wing Man was beside him, hovering close enough to catch the Captain should he fall, scowling fiercely at the iron man and him. For some reason acid burned in his throat at the sight.

Too late the Soldier realized he'd made a fatal mistake as he unconsciously shifted his weight toward the captain. Exhausted, he couldn't avoid the energy blast that shot out of the Iron Man's palm. It blasted him across the roof. Pain lanced his limbs and his metal arm screamed. He hit hard and tumbled and rolled. Right off the edge of the building.

Suddenly he was falling and terror ripped through him, as hot and loud as the energy from the chair. He screamed. Something warm and solid wrapped around his arm, halting his descent, sending a fresh wave of pain through his shoulder blades and his cried out. For a moment he thought it was the Iron Man intent on finishing him. Then he heard the labored breathing and saw the blue eyes of the Captain, blown wide with fear.

They stared at one another, the Captain holding the Soldier tight, refusing to let him fall. He thought he'd been in this situation before. He knew he had. That time the Captain had not been able to save him. But this time the Captain had. Something in his mind crumbled and he shuddered.

With a grunt, the Captain pulled him up on the roof and the two collapsed side by side, gulping in air.

"Bucky…"

It was barely more than a whisper, a plea. He wanted to scream. _Who was Bucky?_ Why did the Captain keep calling him that? Why did it make him _hurt_? It was wrong, so wrong, and yet it felt…right. _Why? Why? Why?!_

There was no time to answer. The Iron Man was coming toward them despite the Black Widow stepping into his path. The Wing Man was racing towards the Captain and him, apparently unprepared for how fast the Captain had moved. The Soldier met the Captain's desperate gaze. "Don't do anything stupid, punk."

He had no idea where the words came from, but as soon as he spoke them he knew they were right. The startled expression on the Captain's face was the last he saw of the blonde man before he leapt off the roof.

No one pursued.

Still he ran from the building, from the Iron Man, and most of all from Captain Steve Rogers like he was under fire. That was the mission's name. The Soldier knew it and he couldn't explain the flurry of feelings it triggered. No longer was his mission just the Captain, he was Steve and somehow that changed everything more than ever. As the words, " _Don't do anything stupid, punk_ " had rolled off his tongue the name had cemented in his brain. The red-head woman had called the captain by his name on the river bank but he had overlooked it; too caught up in the disorientation of his new mission and his malfunctions.

Steve.

Steve.

 _Steve._

 _"I'm with you to the end of the line."_

 _"Bucky, no!"_

 _"I had him on the ropes."_

 _"You know me."_

His heart raced and sweat gathered in his palms. He didn't pay attention to where he was going, relying instinctively on his training to disappear into the shadows. But most off all, he didn't stop moving. He couldn't. He was being hunted…if only in his mind. The Soldier did not dare stay still. The thoughts trying gain traction in his mind were far too painful, too dangerous to consider stopping.

So he ran.

* * *

*cringes* So yeah, the fight scene between Iron Man and the Winter Soldier was horrible to write and I really am not that happy with how it turned out, but I figured I might as well publish it otherwise I never will.

So thank ya'll for reading! Hope you enjoyed it.

Please leave a review and let me know what you think!

Cheers! - Noelani


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Hello everyone! Sorry it's been so long, but here I am at last with another chapter. :D I want to thank everyone who has reviewed, favorited, and followed this story. You guys are awesome! My sister pointed out last night when I was uploading the doc with the new chapter that I have exactly 100 followers for this little story. o_0 WOW! Thank you so much! I hope all 100 and all the anonymous readers enjoy this chapter.

We're coming to the end of the journey here with this technically being the last chapter with an epilogue to follow. It's written, and has been for a year, lol, and will be posted Saturday night. In the meantime, I hope ya'll enjoy this new chapter. And please forgive me for any mistakes as it is not beta'd like all the previous chapters.

Finally, I want to thank Jesus Christ, my Lord and Savior who remains always my Savior even when I've fallen into temptation and sin; whose love remains even though I run away in shame. In a way I can relate to Bucky/Winter Soldier and how the realization of how awful, how selfish, cruel, and broken I am has me running from the One who can heal me rather than to Him. This chapter is therefore dedicated to all those who have done wrong, been wronged, and struggled in the aftermath to find healing. You are loved; you are forgiven. Call on the name of Jesus and He will make you new for He loves you more than you can imagine. Blessings and peace to you all!

 **Disclaimer:** Not mine, just borrowing.

Onward-ho to the story!

* * *

 **My Mission: Part 6**

* * *

As soon as Barnes was gone, Natasha and Sam raced over and knelt down next to Steve and checked him over quickly. There was fresh blood on the bandages over his stomach and the stab wound in his arm. Steve didn't seem to notice. His eyes were glazed, face pale, as he stared at nothing. It was the same look Natasha remembered from the van after Steve had ripped the Winter Soldier's mask off.

Barnes had said something to Steve after he'd caught him and pulled him back up on the roof. Natasha had been too far away to hear what, but whatever it was had an obvious impact on Steve. But he didn't seem capable of speaking and Natasha didn't push. Sam didn't either and her respect for the pararescuer went up another notch. Sam Wilson barely knew them, yet he had quickly become a stalwart friend and ally that Natasha felt she could trust.

Stark was fuming as he stomped over.

"What were you thinking Cap? That guy tried to kill you yesterday and nearly succeeded! And now he's gone."

The super-soldier didn't even blink. Steve was far away, in the past Natasha suspected, remembering the war. But Tony Stark wasn't a man to be deterred.

"Earth to Rogers! Hey Capsicile, answer me!"

"The Winter Soldier is Steve's old friend, Barnes." Natasha said, keeping her words cool and clip.

"What?" Stark sputtered, the anger defusing into confusion. "But—but he died in the war, right?"

"Apparently not," Sam said darkly. He was supporting Steve's weight, guiding the super-soldier back against the roof wall. Natasha looked at Tony. "The sooner we get him to New York the better."

"Right, yeah, uh Jarvis we need the jet."

"Already in route sir. Medical personnel are standing by at the Tower to receive Captain Rogers," came the crisp British reply. The AI continued, "ETA is seven minutes. There are medical supplies on board to tend to the Captain."

"Very good," Tony answered absently, staring at the edge of the rooftop where Barnes had disappeared.

The wait was passed in silence and when the jet landed, they remained quiet as the boarded. Sam and Natasha changed Steve's bandages while Tony sat in the pilot seat in the front, talking quietly with his A.I. No doubt to dig up everything about Barnes. Natasha doubted he'd find much. The Winter Soldier was a ghost and the likelihood of there being any digitalized files on him in the internet file dump from SHIELD were slim.

"Why don't you get some shut eye. I'll stay with him," Natasha said to Sam as the man yawned. He gave her a sheepish grin before agreeing. Once Sam was settled, Natasha stepped sat down on the edge of the emergency bed Steve lay on. His gaze was still far away.

Cautiously, Natasha reached out and gently gripped his hand. To her relief, Steve squeezed back and blinked, looking around for the first time and realizing where he was. Natasha wanted to say something, but the relief at seeing Steve return to himself swallowed her words.

Then Steve looked at Natasha squarely, his brilliant blue eyes arresting her full attention. "He remembered."

Her breath caught. Whatever the man had said on the roof, it had clearly been something only Barnes would say. Barnes had remembered. How much he remembered was unclear, but still. Natasha could hardly believe it on the riverbank, but now she felt something inside her respond to the silent joy in Steve's eyes. Barnes had remembered. Against all odds, despite everything he had done and had suffered at HYDRA's hands, Barnes remembered Steve enough to speak to his old friend like he used to.

A hint of a smile graced her lips and Natasha dipped her head. "Yeah, he did."

It did not change what Barnes had done, but it was something. Her words seemed to be the cue for Steve to relax, the tension and adrenaline that had been keeping him going finally fading away. He slumped back against the pillows, exhausted.

"But he left."

The words were so lost, so forlorn that Natasha's heart twisted. She would be the first to acknowledge she didn't know much about friendship and family except what Clint had taught her and more recently Steve himself. But she knew then and there that Steve Rogers needed Bucky Barnes, even broken and dark as he was. They had died to the world within days of each other back in World War II. And since awakening in the future, Natasha recognized that Steve had been going through the motions. Since he learned Bucky was alive, however, a fire had been lit in him, a defiance that before had been tempered by grief. And now Barnes was alive and the whole world had shifted on its axis.

She glanced up towards the front of the plane where Stark was piloting the plane. If Tony had been successful in killing him Natasha knew, beyond a doubt, they would have lost Steve completely. It was a possibility too horrible to contemplate.

Natasha squeezed Steve's hand. Steve looked up at her, the lost boy gone and the determined man back in his place. "I'll find him."

She nodded, not knowing what to say. Steve sank back, eyes drifting shut, too exhausted to realize how worried she was. Finding Barnes was only half the battle ahead. Seventy years in enemy hands was a long time. The damage to Barnes' mind alone was significant. Despite remembering Steve, the Winter Soldier remained extremely dangerous as the night's events proved. He would hurt Steve, intentionally or not. It made her stomach roil just thinking about it. But there was nothing for it. Natasha knew Steve would pursue Barnes regardless.

Perhaps she couldn't stop him, she mused, watching the sun rise through the plane window, but at least she could help him. When they landed in New York, she'd make some calls.

* * *

It was cold. Muddy. The tent seemed too small and too big at the same time. He didn't know where he was. Everything seemed…familiar, but it didn't look like it had a few hours ago. Even his clothes were different. They were an off shade of green and brown and worn out. The Soldier looked around in mounting confusion and fear. Where was he?

The tent flap pulled back and the Captain stepped inside.

"Go away Steve."

Huh? Who said that?

The Captain was studying him with intense blue eyes. "This can't go on, Bucky. You need sleep."

"No one's getting any sleep out here," answered the same voice from before. The Soldier blinked. Wait, was that… _him_ speaking?

His shock went unnoticed as the Captain sighed and sat down next to him.

"I don't want to talk about it," the…Bucky said, sharply. He was afraid. No, the Soldier was afraid? He shook his head in frustration. What was this?

 _A memory_.

A memory? No, it couldn't be. The Soldier didn't…but ever since he'd been assigned the wrong mission to kill the Captain he'd been seeing things. Things that could only be called memories from before. Like the Captain when he was very small and was reading a book to him…

The Captain, Steve, didn't seem surprised by his refusal. "I know you don't, but you need to," he said gently.

The Soldier and Bucky shook their heads together. Talk? The Soldier didn't even know what to say, he was so confused.

He blinked, startled when Steve pulled a small leatherbound book from his jacket. "And since you can't tell me, try writing it down."

"Steve—"

"Just try, Bucky. Please. I think it will help."

Hesitantly, Bucky and the Soldier reached out and took the book. "Okay."

The sad smile he received from Steve increased the ache in the Soldier's chest.

As he watched the smile began to crack, then the face, and then the tent. Fire exploded the image like glass and terrible screams echoed in his ears.

 _"Go. Get out of here!"_

 _"No, not without you!"_

 _"Bucky! Grab my hand!"_

He screamed and his eyes snapped open as he fell. A wooden floor was under him a moment later and the Soldier lay there, whimpering and panting. He...he wasn't falling without end in someplace gray and white. Still, his heart raced and it was hard to breath. Where was he?

He forced his eyes to focus and take in his surroundings. He was in a white room with a bed, a dresser and night table. The panic was receding slowly and he sat up, confused. Where was he? He didn't remember much after the fight on the hospital roof with the Iron Man.

The Iron Man…Stark…

A different face appeared in his mind, older, but achingly familiar with dark hair and eyes. And then it was gray and covered in blood. More faces, male and female, young and old followed. All dead. By his hand. His stomach rebelled and he vomited. It hurt, everything hurt and it didn't stop even when the convulsions ended. What…what had he done? The Captain…Steve…. _Steve_.

Exhausted, he crawled away from the disgusting puddle of bile towards to door. He was in an apartment. Then he saw the bullet holes in the walls. He had done that. He'd shot someone, killed them like he had the other man…like the soldiers when he was going to the Helicarrier on his handler's final faulty mission…

What had he done?

What had he _done_?

He howled, feeling like his insides were combusting as the realization of what had happened to him and what he had done hit.

And James Buchanan Barnes buried his face in his hands and wept.

* * *

Thank ya'll so much for reading! Please review and let me know what you think. :D

The epilogue will be posted this Saturday night. Til then, God bless!

-Noelani


	7. Epilogue

**A/N:** So here it is, the final chapter of this story. Thank you all so much for all your support and interest in this story! I never expected or planned to write this much for this, but I really have enjoyed it and I hope you all have too.

And thank you my Savior, Jesus, for your great love and mercy and blessings I do not deserve.

Enjoy readers!

* * *

 **Epilogue**

* * *

Eventually the tears dried, leaving him utterly exhausted and empty. He had no idea how long he'd been in the apartment, but he knew it had been too long. Far too long. It took all his energy to raise himself up into a sitting position. His body was heavy, heavier than his metal arm, and felt utterly raw.

Pressing a hand to his face, he tried to get his bearings. He had to leave. He had to disappear.

Something red and blue caught his attention on the coffee table. He blinked, surprised to see the furniture piece. Panic flitted at the edges of his mind. In his hysteria he had not even noticed it. Swallowing, he reached out and picked up the colorful item on it. It was a flyer for an exhibit at the Smithsonian on Captain America. Captain America…his mission…Steve.

He had to know for sure. He had to. Weakly, he got to his feet and wrinkled his nose at the stench of bile. The Smithsonian would be busy, with lots of security. He couldn't go there like this. Stumbling back to the bedroom, he ruffled through the drawers and found some clothes and quickly changed, keeping only his boots. The rest he stuffed into a plastic bag to throw away.

Spying a back pack near the end of the bed, he picked it up. There were a few pens, pencils, and a new unused journal inside.

 _Since you can't tell me, try writing it down._

He left the journal inside and went to check the dresser for money. He smirked when he found a several twenty dollar bills hidden in the sock drawer. Satisfied, he started to the fire escape. He paused, seeing a blue ball cap on the other side of the couch. It was a little rough for wear and appeared to have been damaged by a bullet. He picked it up and put it on as he climbed out the window and headed down to the streets.

Hours later, he stood in the Smithsonian Exhibit of Captain America. A display with a gray picture on it of a man caught his attention. Slowly he walked toward it, reading the name.

James Buchanan Barnes.

That was his face. That was him. He really was Bucky Barnes.

He bowed his head, trembling.

"Best friends since childhood, Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers were inseparable on both schoolyard and battlefield."

The narrating voice cut through the haze. Gritting his teeth, Bucky looked towards the picture of skinny Steve Rogers on a nearby wall. Steve would never stop searching for him. He knew that. But for now he had to disappear and become the ghost he had been for so long.

Because he couldn't face Steve now, not after all he'd had done.

With one last glance at the portrait of his best friend Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes turned and disappeared into the crowd.

* * *

Sam Wilson could have never imagined the incredible events of the past few weeks. He'd gone from a VA counselor to friend of Steve Rogers to fugitive to Captain America's wingman and finally an Avenger. It was almost too much to process. But he didn't regret it. None of it. Steve was a good man, and a great friend. He was worth it. And right now, standing behind the man as he examined the tombstone with the name of a very much alive Nick Fury, he knew he never would. Not because there wouldn't be pain or fear or even anger and frustration. No, because he knew Steve cared about him and when Steve Rogers offered his friendship it was for life. Sam knew without question that if it was him in Barnes' place, Steve would be willing to risk the same things—to search just as hard—to believe he could be saved.

"So what now?"

Natasha had handed Steve a file before leaving them alone in the cemetery. She had said she needed to figure out what to do next since dumping all of SHIELD's secrets on the internet had revealed her past to the world. There was an unspoken understanding between them that it wasn't just to figure out who she was, but to fall off the grid to avoid old enemies attacking. That and Sam suspected she might be a little sweet on Steve. Or not. They had been made partners by the 'dead' Director Fury. And partners had to trust each other. Either way, she was going her own way. That left Sam to back Steve up because he was absolutely certain that the captain was not going to let what happened to Barnes, to SHIELD, slide.

Steve didn't answer immediately. His head tilted down to look at the file in his hands again, and Sam could see some of the black and white pictures and he cringed. What HYDRA had done to Barnes was beyond inhumane and cruel. Steve closed the file slowly, turning away from the empty grave. Sharp, blue eyes pierced Sam.

"I'm burning HYDRA to the ground," Steve said, his voice quiet but like granite. "I thought it was finished seventy years ago when I went into ice. That the SSR would wipe out the remnants with Schmidt dead. They didn't. And SHIELD has been cutting off the heads of HYDRA ever since and it hasn't worked. This time I'm burning it all down."

Sam nodded, dread and understanding warring inside him. There was no question that Steve was right. When he went into the ice, the SSR and later SHIELD failed to eradicate HYDRA because they thought cutting off the heads was enough. But the mythical monster hydra was never defeated that way—it was burned. Right now Sam could see fire in Steve's eyes. HYDRA had taken everything from him, but worse than that they had taken his best friend and used, abused, and brainwashed him during the time Steve was gone. Beyond that, the casualties of HYDRA's ongoing survival were far higher than Sam wanted to even think about. There had been so much evil perpetuated by HYDRA from their illegal human experimentations to assassinations and genocides; it was too much. They had to be stopped once and for all.

A reckoning was on the horizon, far greater than three insight carriers crashing into the Potomac. The world was about to change again and Sam knew things were going to get worse before they got better. Nevertheless Sam would follow Steve to whatever end he chose. Just like Barnes had seventy years ago. And maybe, just maybe, they'd find Barnes and bring him home.

"When do we start?"

 _Fin_

* * *

 **Final Notes: So here at last is the end of "My Mission". It was a long ride since I'm such a pokey writer, but thank you all so very much for reading and reviewing! You guys have been amazing and incredibly patient as I've slowly written this story and it means a lot. *sends out virtual hugs and cookies* Thank you!**

 **Until next time, ya'll take care and God bless!**

 **Cheers,**

 **Noelani**


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